Jade Fern Grove the source of terror

Though he did not know it, since he didn't keep a calendar, today marked a whole year that Whiskers had been alive on this godforsaken planet. He, like so many other wolves, had been born a blank slate, and now he was what he was today. He had been shaped by either the world around him or by the stuff that made up his blood and bones. These weren't thinks that he pondered, but his author certainly did.

Whisker meandered with no real destination in mind. For now, he was living day-by-day, not really looking for anything in particular or hoping for anything. If he had no expectations, he couldn't possibly be disappointed, right?

The telltale scent of another wolf eased into his nostrils... wait, two wolves! The easily distracted yearling immediately made a beeline toward them, golden eyes wide and cheerful as he approached.